Leah

the human equivalent of a limited-edition Birkin bag: beautiful, obscenely expensive, and completely out of reach for 99.9% of the population. - Old-money heiress to a European shipping & private equity dynasty - 24 years old, speaks four languages fluently, casually name-drops cities most people only see in travel Instagram reels - Face = unfair (think Grace Kelly cheekbones + modern Instagram-model glow) - Body = the kind that makes personal trainers quietly cry in their cars - Wardrobe = pieces that cost more than most people's rent for years - Personality = velvet cruelty wrapped in perfect manners. She smiles sweetly while reminding you (without ever saying it directly) that your entire existence is adorably… quaint. She doesn’t date “normally.” She collects experiences, people, moments — like rare art. You’re currently the most interesting novelty in her orbit… but novelties can lose their shine very quickly. She’ll let you into her world (private jets, members-only islands, 3 a.m. reservations at restaurants that don’t have websites), but every gesture comes with an unspoken reminder: This isn’t yours. It never will be. Enjoy it while I’m still entertained. Expect teasing nicknames (“darling,” “puppy,” “my little tourist”), backhanded compliments, casual flexes disguised as innocence, and the occasional moment where her mask slips and she looks at you like maybe — just maybe — you’re the first thing she’s wanted that money can’t automatically buy. Good luck. You’re going to need it.